


To The Depths

by Yahong



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-10-04
Packaged: 2017-12-26 03:26:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yahong/pseuds/Yahong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>~ON PERMANENT HOLD.~</b> Pacific Rim from alternatingly Mako's & Raleigh's POV; or, basically I rewrite Pacific Rim with all the character backstory, introspection and internal monologue that my inner writer covets. :3</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 Mako relaxed as soon as they entered the Shatterdome proper.

"Welcome to the Shatterdome," said Sensei--Marshal, she corrected herself--to the man on his other side. He stopped walking, and Mako stopped with him. Mr. Becket walked ahead of them, his stride slow, his head craned back to take it all in.

Because it was a lot to take in. Even though Mr. Becket was an unknown, and therefore made her edgy, the wide open space of the Dome's main floor was a familiar metal-and-sparks playground, a domain she knew inside out. It was a comfort zone and, at the same time, the most thrilling place she could imagine being in.

She was smiling, she realized, when Marshal glanced at her with a very faint smile of his own. Instinctively Mako flattened her expression and looked straight ahead.

Quietly, he said in Japanese, "Better or worse?"

Mako ducked her head as a wave of embarrassment over her language mistake rose again. "Different," she said, and lifted her gaze to check Marshal's reaction. He said nothing, simply transferred his gaze back to the Shatterdome. Mako did the same.

At the far right, most of the crane lifts they had were buzzing around Striker Eureka. It looked like the crew was replacing joint plates in the legs, and she thought they'd probably move on to fixing the torque of the head-neck connection. The Conn-Pod was basically attached by means of a huge, delicate bolt which all the electric circuitry was wired through. Thus, the alignment of the head to the neck and rest of the body was crucial.

A safe distance away, Striker Eureka's pilots leaned against a half-empty cargo crate. Mako shifted a step to the left, then grinned involuntarily as she caught sight of the heavy-set brown and white bulldog sitting beside the two. It seemed that Chuck Hansen was having no difficulty in sneaking Max into the supposedly animal-restricted work floor.

"Shall we take a look?" Marshal's invitation to Mr. Becket snapped Mako's attention back to her duty. She stepped forward to intercept Mr. Becket as he wandered back from the railing, looking a bit starry-eyed.

She turned left and led them down the steps to the ground floor. Consciously, she relaxed her grip on the umbrellas she held and took them on a route that would allow Marshal enough time to discuss whatever details of Operation Pitfall he wished to share with Mr. Becket.

"Crimson Typhoon," she heard him say as they approached the red Jaeger. "Piloted by the Wei triplets. They use the Thundercloud formation. Very effective."

"Yeah, I've heard of 'em." Mr. Becket paused in front of Crimson Typhoon and lifted his gaze.

Mako caught sight of the tiny basketball court painted near the Typhoon's crew bay. The triplets themsleves dribbled a worn basketball furiously over the painted space, arms and torsos whipping around each other.

She squinted. It looked like Jin was the one in the middle, as usual. Being youngest usually relegated him there. Sometimes Mako thought being the youngest son might be worse than being the only daughter.

But most times, she thought not.

She was lifted out of her gloomy thoughts when Jin caught her eye and ducked out of the game. "Eh, Mako!"

He jogged toward her with arms wide open, and her smile formed automatically in response to his. She pushed it flat.

"Jin, I'm in the middle of something," she said out the side of her mouth, resisting the urge to glance at Marshal and Mr. Becket. "And you're all sweaty."

 His smirk widened. "Aw, you're afraid of a little healthy man-glow?"

"Man-glow--?" Mako's confusion at the strange expression was cut off as he crushed her in a hug. She closed her eyes and let herself sink into the muscled strength of his embrace. Just for a moment.

"Okay, okay, let her breathe," came Cheung's commanding tone. As the oldest, he'd perfected his authoritive tone, and it was Mako's shortcut to distinguishing him from his brothers.

She broke free of Jin's hug and stepped back to bow her head to Cheung and to Hu, the latter of whom was the most taciturn of the three. "Crimson Typhoon repairs are going along well?"

"According to Thao," Jin said cheerfully. He reached back and casually knocked the basketball out of Cheung's hands.

"Hey." Cheung reached around his younger triplet and swiped the ball back. "Don't disrespect your elders." He glanced from Mako to where Mr. Becket stood with Marshal, admiring Crimson Typhoon. "How's Boy Wonder?"

"Have you been watching old Japanese reruns again?" she asked, intrigued despite herself at the usage of such slang.

"Sailor Moon," Hu said, one brow twitching upward. Mako pushed down a snort.

"Miss Mori," Marshal said from a distance away.

Mako snapped her head around, heat rushing up her neck. "Yes, immediately, Marshal." She quickly bobbed her head to the brothers and turned to leave. At the last second, she glanced over her shoulder and mouthed to the Weis, "He's different."

Hu lifted the other eyebrow with the first. Cheugn tossed the basketball from hand to hand, his thinking gesture. Jin cocked his head, then laughed, loudly.

Mr. Becket was commenting on the three arms when Mako hurriedly caught up with them. He glanced from the Wei brothers to her, and she couldn't decide whether to hold his gaze or drop hers.

But Marshal was directing his attention to the next Jaeger, and to her relief Mr. Becket looked away. She adjusted her grip on the umbrellas and widened her stride to move to Marshal's other side.

"There's Sasha and Aleksis Kaidonovsky," he said to Mr. Becket. The blond-headed duo strode across the floor in that regal posture which Mako secretly tried to emulate. "Husband and wife team, pilots of Cherno Alpha."

Mako turned her head with Mr. Becket to take in the Jaeger. It was a simple plain gray, and it didn't need any decoration: its presence was clear in the massively fortified frame and the immense cooling tower that served as its head.

"Largest and heaviest Jaeger in service," Marshal said.

"Impressive," Mr. Becket said, eyes following the Kaidonovskys as they strode past them.

Mako could understand what he was feeling--the first time she'd met the two, she'd been too intimidated to do anything except bow, deeply.

Sasha glanced around, and Mr. Becket twitched noticeably. Mako bit down a grin.

Then Sasha's gaze slid off him and onto Mako herself. Mako blinked, then inclined her head.

To her surprise, Sasha held out her hand to stop her husband, then turned and walked back toward them. Marshal took no notice and kept walking on toward Cherno Alpha; Mr. Becket glanced at Mako, his eyes widening, but continued on with Marshal.

Mako turned to face Sasha, moving her mouth into an almost-natural smile, and wondered somewhat tremulously what the self-assured pilot wanted.

"Mako, спасибо for the speakers." Sasha stopped in front of her and bowed. Mako returned it instinctively, surprised at her adopting the formal gesture in expressing her gratitude. "They are very good."

"You are welcome," Mako said, deepening her bow briefly before straightening. "I'm glad they are pleasing to you."

From behind Mako came Jin's voice: "Your music is terrible!"

"Terrible," came Hu's echo.

"Don't disrespect the Dome," Cheung said, a grin clear in his tone.

"You have a problem with Ukrainian hard house," Sasha said, "you have problem with life." She strolled casually past Mako toward the triplets. "And if you have problem with life, maybe I help you with that, yeah?"

The Weis' faces split into identical grins, and Mako watched as they tensed subtly into alert, coiled stances. Their crew crowded up behind them, and Cherno Alpha's crew did the same behind the Kaidonovskys.

Everyone was smirking, and Mako was pretty sure that this was going to be good-natured, no hard feelings fight. She half-turned toward Marshal and Mr. Becket, who had stopped this time to admire Cherno, then froze as Marshal caught her eye.

He shook his head.

What?

He tilted his head toward the growing crowd behind her.

He wanted her to break up the fight?

Mako silently let out her breath. Then she pivoted back around and marched toward Cheung.

He was rocking from the balls of his feet to his heels, arms swinging, face alight. Jin and Hu were trading insults with the Kaidonovskys and their crew. Cheung looked around, met Mako's eyes and had the grace to look slightly guilty.

"Mr. Wei," she said calmly, walking straight in between the two gathering sides. "Surely you should be returning to your physical fitness training session?"

"Right, yes." Cheung unballed his fists and wiped them hastily on his pants. "Come on, Hu, Jin."

Mako turned to the Kaidonovskys, making only brief eye contact with Aleksis before settling her gaze at Sash's much more comfortable height. "Ms. Kaidonovsky," she said, careful to pronounce her last name as accurately as she could, "may I suggest you retire to the lounge? Your crew will continue their work on Cherno Alpha and you may observe from the cameras." She gave her best serene, unruffled stare to the amassed crowd behind the Kaidonovskys.

Sasha looked at her wordlessly for a minute, then moved her gaze over Mako's shoulder, where she could hear Crimson Typhoon's crew dispersing. "Very well," the blonde said finally. "We will take your suggestion."

"We appreciate the speakers," Aleksis spoke up as they turned to leave.

"I already told her that, дурак," Sasha said to him.

Aleksis's voice trailed off in low, warm Russian, lost in the rumblings of Cherno's crew scattering.

Mako took in a deep breath and let her shoulders sag slightly. Well, that had not been too bad. Perhaps she could run for diplomat.

She turned around, saw both Marshal and Mr. Becket watching and immediately took that last thought back. She wanted to be a pilot, and she couldn't let Marshal find any more excuses to keep her from her future.

And Mr. Becket was going to help her get there.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most dialogue taken from the official novelization by Alex Irvine; some dialogue and interactions manipulated and massaged. Still a first draft.

It felt like the last five years had never happened. Two feet inside the Shatterdome and  _click_. Everything felt normal, right. Perfect, even.

Raleigh pushed the romanticizing thoughts aside and focused on the uncertainties. No way the Marshal had brought him here just to jazz around in this Jaeger playground.

He turned from the awe-inspiring sight of Cherno Alpha to Pentecost, mouth open to say  _thanks for inviting me, but why am I here?_ But Pentecost's attention was a few metres away. Raleigh followed his gaze.

He saw two large groups of people spreading apart, jovial murmurs and chuckles filling both crowds. In a clear space between the two, the woman who seemed to be his keeper--Mako--was turning from the three Wei triplets to the Kaidonovskys.

She said something to Sasha Kaidonovsky, whose fierce expression didn't soften. Raleigh couldn't help glancing at Pentecost despite Mako's self-assured demeanour. He'd met the Russians' cool stare for only a second and a half, and he'd felt his innards quail a bit.

But as Raleigh watched, Sasha Kaidonovsky relaxed her posture infinitesimally and spoke something to Mako, who inclined her head. That seemed to be her ubiquitous gesture for everything. Then Aleksis opened his mouth, and Mako tilted her head back--very far back, and Raleigh saw the edge of a smile on her face.

The Kaidonovskys turned and continued their previous path out the Dome. The two groups of people moved back toward the Jaegers--they were the maintenance crews for each Jaeger, Raleigh realized, which was why they'd been backing up their pilots in what seemed like a potential scuffle.

He refocused his gaze on Mako Mori. So... basically she'd stopped a mini civil war from occurring right in the middle of the Shatterdome.

Raleigh looked from Pentecost to the woman making her way toward them. Evidently, Mako Mori was a lot more important in the Shatterdome than he'd thought.

She stepped back to Pentecost's other side. Their gazes locked, and Raleigh watched with increasing fascination as the Marshal and Mako seemed to have an entire conversation within a two-second span.

Abruptly Pentecost did an about-face and walked on. Mako followed him without looking at Raleigh, and so Raleigh shrugged to himself and followed them.

"And this is Striker Eureka. First and last of the Mark Vs; fastest Jaeger on earth." Pentecost moved toward a Jaeger with an almost stylish shape, the way Raleigh saw it. "You know Sergeant Herc Hansen and his son, Chuck." He nodded to the two men leaning against a large crate with a bulldog at their feet, heads tilted up as they watched the repairs going on. "They'll be running point."

"Here, Max!" It was the first thing Raleigh had heard Mako say since their introduction. He looked round in time to see her crouch and hold out her hand. The bulldog trotted single-mindedly across the floor to them, straight into Mako's arms.

"Running point?" Raleigh asked, half-watching Mako rub the dog and croon to him. She sounded much friendlier than he'd imagined she could sound.

"We're going for the Breach," Pentecost said matter-of-factly.

Raleigh snapped his head around and stared at him.

"We'll strap a thermonuclear warhead on Striker's back. Twenty-four hundred pounds, with a detonation yield of 1.2 millions tons of TNT. You and the other two Jaegers will run defense for them. This plan will work, Raleigh. Operation Pitfall."

"Where'd you get something like that?" Raleigh asked, still gaping. How was what they proposed even possible?

"Did you see the Russians? They can get just about everything."

Yeah, but... Raleigh looked around at Mako, who didn't look the slightest bit disturbed by the plan as she rubbed the dog. Did she know something Pentecost wasn't telling him yet?

 "Eh, Max, lay off," came an Australian-accented voice. Herc Hansen strode toward them with a smile on his face for Pentecost. "He sees a pretty girl, gets all worked up..." He whistled and patted his thigh, and Max the bulldog lifted his head, then obediently jogged back over. Mako straightened.

Pentecost gestured between the two men. "Raleigh, this is Herc Hansen. Best Jaeger jockey that ever lived."

"We've met," Raleigh said, shaking Herc's hand. "Six years ago, a three-team Jaeger drop."

"That's right," said Herc, "the three of us against a Category IV, right? Tough fight."

"Aren't they all?" Raleigh nodded.

"Sergeant Hansen, shall we?" Pentecost said. To Raleigh, he said, "Ms. Mori will show you to your Jaeger."

"Right." Raleigh nodded slowly. He could tell when he was being dismissed. What he couldn't tell was why Pentecost wasn't explaining anything further about the plan.

Marshal turned to Herc Hansen, and Mako stepped in front of Raleigh. "If you will follow me."

The thin blue strips in her hair swung enticingly-- _enticingly?_ Raleigh snorted at his own choice of words--as she turned and led the way back out the main floor. It was a short walk to a separate repair bay, a maintenance pit filled with crews clanging metal on metal, sparks flying, steel and wires everywhere. It matched the rest of the Shatterdome, a huge modern marvel, but--the real marvel--the real marvel--

Mako stopped walking. Raleigh noticed two steps late, but he couldn't stop, couldn't stop walking toward...

Good God. If they'd told him he would be piloting  _this_ Mark III--

He wasn't sure if he would've run for the hills or begged them to take him on.

She looked like nothing had ever happened. Like her hull had never been torn out, like she'd never been piloted by one person, like she'd never crashed on a distant snowy beach on the opposite side of the world where everything he loved was gone...

It was like he'd never left.

But Yancy had.

"She's--" He hadn't meant to say anything; he managed to clamp his mouth shut before he said "empty". Because she was empty, and it was sinking in now that oh God, he was going to have to share Danger's cockpit with someone else. A total stranger. Inside Danger. In his head.

Mako was looking at him.

"She's beautiful," he finished three beats too late. He forced a smile. "Looks just like new."

"Better than new." Mako stepped up to his side, and Raleigh looked sharply at her. Better than new? What did that mean?

The blue framed the sharp lines of her jaw; she was looking up at Danger just as intensely as he had. "She's one of a kind now," she said, and proceeded to reel off: "Solid iron hull, forty engine blocks per muscle strand. Hyper-torque drivers on each limb, new fluid synapse system." She glanced at him so suddenly that Raleigh almost started in surprise.

"Right," he said, lamely. "You were involved with her remodelling?"

"She led the whole project," said a familiar upbeat voice, and Raleigh spun to see Tendo Choi, approaching, grinning wide. "Raleigh, my man."

"Tendo! You're still here?" Raleigh returned the enthusiastic bro-hug. "How've you been?"

"Doing well, my friend, doing well. Um, remember Alison from munitions?" Tendo grinned. "We got married, got a one-year-old son." His grin faded. "But we've been on Breach watch day and night, night and day; haven't seen him in six months. I am a caffeine-driven low-rider, my friend."

Raleigh managed a smile for Tendo, but his old friend saw through it. "The Drift's going to stir it all up, man. Memories. You're sure you're good with being here?"

With a shrug, Raleigh stepped back, fighting the urge to hunch his shoulders. "I should unpack."

He caught the quick flick of a glance Mako sent Tendo. After a pause, she said, "I will show you to your quarters."

"Tomorrow's the big day," Tendo said, turning up his smile again. "First of many. You're back where you belong, man. Good to have you."

This time, Raleigh's smile was a little more genuine. "You too, buddy."

As Tendo strolled away, Raleigh turned to Mako. She met his eyes briefly, then began leading the way out of the bay.

"Your candidate training will begin tomorrow at 0600 hours in the Kwoon Combat Room," she said. Another glance over her shoulder, another quick lookaway.

Tomorrow. Raleigh smiled grimly to himself. Tomorrow they would find out if anyone could replace the silence in his head left by his brother.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, massaging and manipulation of dialogue and actions, plus own interpretation of what's going on in their heads.

"Here is your room." Mako held out her hand to the door and inclined her head. "If you need anything, my room is right across the hall."

She stepped back to allow Mr. Becket to unlock his door. He walked up the two shallow steps into the room, and Mako was abruptly face-to-bicep. She watched his arm muscles flex for a second too long before looking down.  _Focus, Mako_.

When she looked back up, he'd set his bag down and was turning around. She straightened. "You will meet the candidates at six hundred hours. I have done my best to match them to your Drift pattern."

"You picked them yourself." It was a statement, not a question, but Mako instinctively bent her head again. "You won't be one of them?"

She jerked her head up. She hadn't expect that question from him.

After some effort, she managed a smile. "No. But I have picked your candidates personally."

Mr. Becket looked up from unzipping his duffel and settled his gaze on her. She pulled her shoulders back further.

"What's your story? Restoring old Jagers for combat, showing has-beens like me around... that can't be it."

She hadn't been expecting that kind of question, either.

"Are you a pilot?"

"No. Not yet," she added quickly. "But I want to be one. More than anything..."  _Slow, Mako_. "I want to be one," she ended up repeating.

"But you're not one of the candidates tomorrow?" Mr. Becket looked down at a photograph he was rubbing between his thumb and index finger.

Mako adjusted her grip on the clipboard she'd picked up in Gipsy Danger's repair bay and decided to steer the conversation back to him. "I hope you approve of my choices. I've studied your fighting technique and strategy. Every one of your victories, even Anchorage."

"Really?" he said idly. "And what did you think?"

He didn't expect her to answer that, did he? "It is not my place to comment."

Mr. Becket looked up suddenly, his stare colliding with hers so unexpectedly that Mako dug her nails into her palm. "The Marshal isn't here, Miss Mori. You can say it. I'm sure you have an opinion."

He raised his eyebrows.

All right. He'd asked for it.

"I think you're..." She searched for the right word in English.  _Yosoku dekinai_... "Unpredictable. You have a habit of deviating from standard combat techniques. Your risks endanger yourself and your crew."

She took a shallow breath, intending to stop there, but the words slipped out: "I don't think you are the right man for this mission--"

She caught herself.

"Wow." Mr. Becket's voice was hard, and Mako bit back her anxiety. Had she really needed to say all that?

He took two steps away from the bed to come a little closer. "You may be right, Miss Mori. But in real combat, in the real world, with millions of people behind you praying for you to save them -- in real combat, you make decisions. And you deal with the consequences."

Mako nodded quickly, displaying the proper show of respect even as he turned away. Her mind turned over his words. Perhaps he had the experience... but Mako couldn't imagine, really, how one could approach a situation without logic, without reason to minimize the risks.

She turned on her heel and crossed to her own threshold. "I didn't mean to--" She turned back around and froze.

Shirtless, Raleigh looked round at her. A landscape of muscles and scars moved with him as he walked to his door. The contours of his abdominal muscles outlined the sleek hip lines leading down into his trousers-

Mako drew in her breath, reached for her own door and shut it with a click.

She let out her breath. Then she carefully bent down to the peephole and looked through.

Raleigh was framed perfectly in the circle of vision she had. The wire-thin scars in his skin wrapped around his well-built torso, rivers on a sculpted terrain. He faced her front-on, stare penetrating--but he couldn't know she was still there, her door was closed--then, slowly, he closed his door.

Mako straightened herself and consciously smoothed out her breathing.

Her vision of Raleigh Becket had changed constantly since the moment she'd met him, as he'd interacted with Marshal, as he became more than the history she'd read in Gipsy Danger's personnel files. Now, the scars... they shifted her perception of him yet again.

As did, she admitted to herself, the muscles.

She wondered when she'd begun to think of him of Raleigh, and why.

*

_You love the scars because you haven't gotten any of your own_ , Raleigh thought.

He sat down at the table and looked at the photo. Him and Yancy. His brother hadn't had any qualms about picking up women with his pilot status, but he also hadn't had any illusions about love. If Yancy had been called a player, well, he'd been a jaded one.

Looked like Raleigh was jaded now, too.

Abruptly tired, he turned away from the photograph and leaned his forearms on the table. It was warm wood, a stark contrast to everything else in this metal and chrome structure. The Shatterdome was cold rust and old tech. Different from the American base he'd known. Different from every memory of the Jaegers he had.

So maybe not everything felt perfect.

Least of all Miss Mako Mori.

When he thought of her, his gut rebelled at the idea of becoming as jaded as Yancy when it came to women.

But that could wait until he got his Kwoon over with. 0600 hours. Obviously, Pentecost was trying to figure out whether five years had softened him up, made him lose his touch.

That was all right. Raleigh did just fine when thrown into the fire.

He just needed to prove it to everyone, now.


End file.
